The broken dreams of a man are like the broken wings of a bird,
For, what is flight without its freedom?
All he wants to do is rest his childhood memories, tuck them in, and kiss them, preparing for a forever night's voyage.
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He's free from sleeping. Desperate to be freed from the grip of being let down any further. To live, unable to describe what life really means to him. Homeless, within his own head.
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The broken have ears of beauty, for they listen without judgement. They speak without fear. They ask how you are. They await your response, because they truly care.
Simplicity for them pose challenges unbeknownst to the rest of society,
For they are beyond the norm, awkwardly strung with conversations, as a violin with one string. So, they are their own best company.
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How do you take from a man that has nothing left to lose?
Tell him you love him and promptly take it away again.
For it's the equivalent of taking a chainsaw to a tree because it blocks your view. Not knowing how the shade was once resplendent. And, it takes just as long to grow again.

© Lunaris